


Boys of Summer

by LizaPod



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Too Hot to Fuck, Unresolved Sexual Tension, groovy mutations, long and shapely manlegs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-21 02:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaPod/pseuds/LizaPod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heatwaves, weed, and unresolved sexual tension</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys of Summer

Sean misses Seattle more than ever when the first New York summer rolls around. This heat and the fucking  _humidity_  are killing him. He’s used to summers where you still need a sweat shirt, for crying out loud. He can’t go outside without turning red and dripping buckets. In other words, it sucks.

He takes refuge in the bunker that Alex practices in; it’s the only place that stays a decent human temperature during the hottest part of the day. He kicks a bit of mannequin from the middle of the floor into a corner and flops gingerly down in its place. The cement is blessedly cool against his back. The fact that the floor is uncomfortable is more than balanced out by the fact that he can breathe without inhaling his own sweat. 

The lighter in his pocket digs into his thigh- the hazards of fashionably tight pants that make girls swoon- okay, theoretical girls, since there aren’t any at the school- okay, fashionably tight pants that he wears despite the heat because they make Alex notice his ass- and he sits up to pull it out before it sets his balls on fire. While he’s at it, he pulls the joint out of his other pocket. And while he’s at it, he takes his shirt off. It already smells like a swamp anyway. 

The cement feels even better when he gets back down. He fumbles the lighter in sweaty fingers but gets the joint lit. The first pull hits his lungs like a friendly green punch in the arm and he settles further into the floor.

“Hank hates it when you smoke up in here,” Alex’s voice echoes down from the door. Sean tilts his head up far enough to grin at him. 

“Hank is out with the Professor, so it’s aaaaall groovy,” he says, waving with the joint. He can’t be bothered to hold his head up so he drops it back down and cracks it on the pavement. “OW.”

“Dork.” Alex’s voice is closer and accompanied by shuffling footsteps. “Gimme that and I won’t tell on you.” 

Sean holds up the lit joint without looking. Alex takes it and he lets his arm drop back down across his stomach. His skin is itchy from the drying sweat so he scratches himself absently. “What are you doing down here, anyway? No targets to make go boom.” 

“Dude, it’s a hundred degrees out there. I’m doing what you’re doing.” Sean peeks through one eye to see Alex sitting on the floor next to him, annoyingly long and shapely manlegs spread out, and offering the blunt back to him. He takes it back and takes a drag with his eyes shut, while the sound of someone else’s damp shirt hitting the floor smacks wetly against his ears. A sound that means Alex is shirtless, which means peeking again becomes absolutely necessary, even if it is too hot to even contemplate jerking off later, which means that he’s just teasing himself, but Alex shirtless is too awesome to ignore.

Alex is built like some model in a Sears Catalog, all narrow waist and broad shoulders and healthy summer tan. Sean tries not to stare and chews his lip for a second before answering.

“Meditating on the ultimate futility of life in a world where hot blue chicks no longer roam the halls at night?”

Alex snorts and holds his hand out for the weed. “Hiding from the goddamn heat. Never thought I’d miss Alaska until August in New York.” 

Sean pulls long and hard on in the joint before handing it back. Alex’s fingers brush against his- scrape, really, Alex’s fingers are too rough and manly to do anything as gentle as brush- when he takes it. Sean lets the smoke trickle out of his lungs slowly. “Fuuuuck this heat, man.” 

“Don’t talk about fucking, it’s too hot to think about right now,” Alex wheezes. 

“Not like there’s anyone around  _to_  fuck,” Sean mutters after a minute, holding his hand out for the joint again. It’s a shot in the dark. He’s pretty sure he’s seen Alex  _looking_ , now that Hank “I hate my looks even though I look like some sort of pretty movie star” McCoy is now Hank “I look like Cookie Monster’s scary cousin” McCoy.

“Mmmmm.” Alex has no inflection that Sean can interpret one way or the other. “I guess.” 

The joint gets passed back and forth until Sean, at least, is pleasantly buzzing and Alex swears as the ember singes his fingers. “Do you have another one?”

“No, I haven’t gotten down to town to get more.” Sean lets his hand fall to the side, palm up on the floor between them. “It’s been  _too fucking hot_.” 

“What did I say about  _fucking_?” Alex groans, and Sean’s hand gets a half-hearted smack. Alex’s fingers drag over his for half- a millisecond- too long; Sean tilts his head and squints at him. Alex doesn’t look back at him. “I’ve got one left but it’s upstairs.”

“I’d say go get it but I’m not evil,” Sean says and lets his fingers curl close around the lingering rasp of Alex’s skin. “You’d better share.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

The lazy companionable silence falls back between them. The bunker air smells like old explosions and fading pot and fresh sweat, making Sean’s nose twitch and his balls take a vague interest in the proceedings. The sound of Alex’s breathing is slow and even, so even that Sean lifts one heavy eyelid to see if he’s fallen asleep. He’s not. 

He’s looking back at Sean, sleepy-looking but definitely awake. Alex’s fingers move slowly across his again and stop when their index fingers are hooked, just at the first knuckle. Alex’s head rolls away so he’s looking up at the ceiling; Sean does the same.

Their fingers are still linked.

“It’ll probably be cooler next week,” Alex mutters, tugging on his finger gently.

“Yeah,” Sean says, and links the rest of their fingers.


End file.
